anything Blip can do, Mike can do (teammates)
by Younger Dr. Grey
Summary: or, how Ginny and Mike find a loophole to slow-burn their way into a different sort of teammates [post-season one finale]
1. (teammates)

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The team loads into the bus while Mike and Blip hover near the doors. Every single Padre has a present in their hands. No flowers, as per Blip's instructions. He'd told them all, right after the game, "Ginny hates flowers, and if you think for a second, you're going into that hospital room with a bouquet," he'd clapped his mitt, "I'll throw my own arm out smacking that shit right out of your hands." They'd laughed, but he'd leveled a glare that told them they should listen.

Now they shuffle onto the bus, comparing their books and movies and freaking puzzles — basically anything to keep the ever restless Ginny Baker from losing her mind while she's figuring out what happens next. No official word's come from her camp, or Amelia, and honestly the most anyone knows at this point is that she's still in the hospital and that Evelyn and Blip spent the whole of yesterday over there. Blip's tight-lipped about her condition, but he'd insisted that they all show their support and remind her that she's a Padre, part of the team no matter what.

Mike's got a rolled up poster in his hands. He wrings it as Livan heads on the bus, then loosens his grip so the wrinkles won't set in. Livan's got a card. The fuck is Ginny gonna do with a card? Place it near the generic teddy bear some fan in the hospital no doubt sent her from the gift shop? Drop it in the trash when no one's looking? Either way, Mike circles his jaw to break the tension and figures he could say something to ease some of that with Blip too.

"Good idea taking the bus," Mike says, "Looks good for the team."

Blip rolls his shoulders. "Yeah, well, I've always been about the team. But hey, glad you could show. Thought you might leave her too." He keeps his eyes forward as he says it, so maybe he misses the way that Mike slackens. How Mike's shoulders sort of drop before any words find their way out.

Honestly how difficult is it for the team to put this together? Mike hadn't tried to leave. He'd been told to leave. He'd been pressured into trading, and now he's still here. "I didn't leave anyone."

Blip barely stifles his scoff. "Keep telling yourself that." He starts for the bus, but Mike grabs his arm to stop him. Blip doesn't exactly glare back, but the look's not too friendly.

Mike says, "I'm here, aren't I? Give me credit for that at least."

Blip shakes off the hold. "Just don't walk out once you go in there. She might act tough, but you know how this stuff is."

"Yeah, I do." Mike's the one with the bum knees, getting replaced and traded like he didn't help build this team player by player right alongside Al. He's the one who's getting pushed out of that team that he built by the closest friend he'd had among them. He's the one who had the power to try and talk Ginny down, to give a different call, to do something other than watch while she fucked herself up on that throw. He knows more than anyone else here how rough it is to watch your career dance on the edge of fate and someone else's bad intuition. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good." With that said, Blip heads for his seat on the bus. Mike heads to his. And they don't say another word, not until they get to the hospital.

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Players go in two by two. Blip stays, half hanging off the bed from his seat on the corner of Ginny's bed. She's propped up, arm held close to her body, and her smile comes in and out depending on who's there and what gifts they've brought for her.

Sonny gives her a Magic Mike DVD. Says, "If the thing with the billionaire doesn't work out." She swats at him, and he laughs. "What? You already have it? This one's deluxe!"

Livan gives her his number, scrawled inside of a get well soon card. He says, "Call me if you need me, mami. I give a good back rub." Blip glares at Livan for that, but Ginny laughs and says she'll keep it in mind.

She gets a puzzle, a few ice packs, a long stick that's meant to be a scratcher for inside a cast if she needs one of those. She gets a new Monopoly and a deck of playing cards that have her as the queen, which she only slightly rolls her eyes at. She only gets one book — Queen Sugar, and Blip's the one who gave it to her, saying, "Ev's already obsessed with the show it's based on, and it's not even out yet, Gin. Please read it. Please talk to her about it. Distract her, Ginny. Please."

Then it's Mike's turn. He'd waved in player after player before him, smiled and waved as they headed back to the bus. He'd told them all, "I'll get my own ride back. Gotta give the rookie a speech worth coming back for." But his mind's pretty empty by the time he pushes open the door to her private room. Throat's dry, lips splitting, and honestly he loses any words he's got left once he catches sight of Blip sitting guard.

He catches the tail end of something Ginny's saying, something like "She's not wrong to want that, Blip." But her words stop once he gets the door open, and Blip turns to stare out the window. Ginny, though, she stares at Mike with her jaw up a little too high, her eyes a little glassy. She doesn't cry much, doesn't show much more emotion than she has to most of the time, so he could almost write it off. She's tired, she's drugged up, but no matter what, there's no hiding the fact that this is getting to her. Plus, her nose is too red, and the top of her cheeks shine up at him like Rudolph's.

"Hey, Baker."

He fights the urge to choke out the poster again. Her lips quirk up. He probably should've wiped his hands on something other than the poster. He's been sweating a lot today, though it's probably just the nerves of everything with the trade and the no hitter.

"You're moving pretty slow, old man."

He chuckles. Shakes off the voice that assures him he could move faster for her if she wants him to. "Yeah, well." He glances around since he doesn't have an end to that sentence. Blip meets his eye. Mike looks from Blip to the door, then back again. Blip doesn't move, as if he can't tell what the sign is, as if they haven't played this game before.

Ginny must see the look. She turns to Blip. "Hey, could you get me something with caffeine?" Her canine teeth poke out in that lopsided grin of hers. "Maybe some rum if you can find it."

Blip laughs. "Yeah, not with your painkillers."

"The caffeine though, that's fair game," she says. Blip stiffens with it, stares down at her like she's picking a side by letting Mike stay. Exactly how long will it take for Blip to remember that they're all the same team? "We'll be good here while you go."

"Yeah, you two said that a million times yesterday." He shakes his head. Turns mocking as he backs towards the door. "You good? I'm good. Good. Good then. Good."

She looks ready to toss a pillow after him, bad arm be damned. "Get out of here!" Blip laughs again before he actually does duck out of the room.

Mike's shoulders relax a bit at the space that gives him. Less tense in the room, less like everything he does is on display. But Blip leaving also means it's just Ginny and Mike, alone, in an isolated room for the first time since that moment the other night. Mike hears the poster crinkle in his grip.

"Easy there; it's not a bat." Ginny scoots up against her pillows so she's about as tall as she can be. "That for me?"

He nods. "Yeah. Right." He reaches out with the poster. "Here." She can't quite reach unless he gets next to the bed. She can't extend too far, or stretch too far, so his jeans brush against hospital sheets while she pulls the present out from him.

She unfurls it carefully, struggling to keep it from rolling back together when she's only got on arm at her disposal. He grabs the top of the poster to help her, which she thankfully doesn't comment on. Just lets it unroll and then full out croaks at the glossy print out of their team nude shots. Hoarse laugh on full display. She rakes her eyes over each of them, maybe even pauses for a second or two extra when she gets to his glorious bod. Stills even longer on her own.

He scratches at his beard with the hand not holding down the poster. "It's supposed to be a joke. Supposed to remind you that you've gotten through a lot already, so this is just the next thing in the line."

She won't look up from it, but her voice shakes a bit when she says, "Thanks, Mike." He makes a move to come closer, and she snaps, "Stop! Don't do that. Don't try to comfort me. Don't try to touch me." She huffs. "I might be hurt, but this is just temporary, okay? You and me, we're still teammates."

He nods, voice softer than he intends it to be, "Of course. But, uh," she looks small for probably the first time since he's known her, and her jaw's pulled in so tight that it could snap, and he doesn't even have to do much of anything, but if he could just sit next to her for a bit, prove that he's here and that he's not going anywhere until she does, then maybe this day won't be the worst he's had in months. "Hey, Blip's a teammate, right?"

She hesitates, wheels visibly turning in her mind. "Yeah?"

"Well, so am I. So," Mike straightens up, "Anything Blip can do, I can do. Makes sense, doesn't it?"

She grins. "I guess it does."

"Good. Now, Blip got to sit on the bed. So…" he nudges her, swats at her leg the way he's done a hundred times on the field. She scoots, and he plops himself down beside her. "I can sit here too."

He might've overstepped. Might've pushed her when she needed someone to just roll over. She smoothes her hands over the poster again and again. Then she says, "You know, Blip was a little closer than that."

So Mike scoots until his leg's up against hers, and their shoulders bump, and she sinks down just enough to lean against him. It's not much, honestly it's nowhere near enough, but it's probably the first time she tells him to come closer to her. Just like Blip, just like the rest of the Padres and every one of those fans out there rooting for her recovery, Mike's not going anywhere.

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	2. (phone calls and text messages)

**about...** Blip and Ginny never talk on the phone for more than thirty minutes, but they can text for hours.

(Today in "I'm TV trash," I reference a few Netflix shows below. You don't need to have seen them to get the references for the most part, and I'm saddened that Mike's probably never seen The Get Down so I couldn't bring it up. Thanks for the enthusiasm on part one. Hope you like part two!)

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 **part two**  
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Ginny goes through a pack of gum in a day. A single day. Under twenty-four hours of smacking until the flavor's gone, spitting it out, and starting a new piece because there's basically nothing to do while she's still trapped in the hospital room. Everyone agreed that Ginny should stay in-patient for a while so she doesn't mess up her arm any further right now, but that was before her team bribed the nurses to disconnect the cable in her room. They left her with Netflix and a few strongly worded notes to avoid any reports about her, the Padres, or anything else baseball related. Which is rough since baseball's pretty much all she cares about. Plus, the last time that she had the free time to watch anything was at least twenty Netflix originals ago, so she doesn't even know where to begin.

Nurse Karen side-eyes the wad of gum in Ginny's beside trash can, and - fine - Ginny snatches up her phone and texts the one person who might not make a big deal out of her succumbing to the quiet desperation of recovery.

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 6:47pm  
** / Hey teammate

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 6:49pm  
** / Fellow Padre

She rolls her eyes. But hey, at least they're sticking to this.

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 6:50pm  
** / What's happening now rookie? Set the hospital on fire?

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 6:51pm  
** / I wish.  
/ What's good on Netflix?

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 6:53pm  
** / Damn, binge watching already?  
/ You're coming back to us as big as me aren't you?

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 6:54pm  
** / I'm looking for one decent recommendation on what to watch here

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 6:55pm  
** / Sure we aren't talking too much?

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 6:56pm  
** / We've sent like six texts  
/ and no, we're not. Blip and I text through whole days sometimes  
/ We even do this thing where we talk on the phone ~~~~~~

Not that she necessarily wants to talk to Mike on the phone. Though, it has been a while since she's heard a voice other than Nurse Karen's. Last visitor she had was Eliot who took a picture of her smiling (okay, grimacing) for social media and not so subtly reminded her that she should reach out to Amelia. Which isn't really Ginny's job. Amelia oversteps all the time, and the last thing Ginny needs while figuring out the course of action for her body is someone with no boundaries. She needs someone calmer around, someone who won't push her into risky surgeries or try to convince her that it's fine that her off season's starting so spectacularly slowly. Someone who won't try to spin this as a good way to get started on ghost-writing her memoirs.

What would Ginny even put in there? Long-winded chapters about training with her dad? She could mention getting her ears pierced in secret with her mom before she found out that her mom wasn't happy with her dad. Or she could talk about the fact that her first real friend of her childhood moved away after his dad killed her dad on one of the best nights of her life (which, then, obviously became one of the worst). Throw in a passage on sneaking out of her Nike party and having a whole college experience in one night, complete with the mental breakdown and shirking of responsibilities because the weight of everything's too much. She might have to mention whatever this thing is with Mike. Or just that she doesn't date teammates, or ball players, and she hasn't had much of a problem with it until her childhood idol started standing across from her with something like respect in his eyes.

She doesn't need memoirs. That's what she's saying. No memoirs because she has no life outside of this game, and if they just want a recap of her history, then they can check out the Wiki page, or the fanblogs, or that one approved mini-documentary about her rise to the Majors.

"'Cause baby, you're a firework!"

Ginny jumps at the sound of her phone cutting through the silence. Her lips split into a grin before she can help it. Mike figuring out what she's humming meant he'd earned himself a new ringtone. She honestly hasn't gotten a chance to hear it attached to him yet. Phone calls aren't really either of their things.

She answers with a quick, "This must be more your speed. I heard texting can be really tiring for old people."

His sarcastic bark of a laugh echoes through the phone. And she'd be lying if she said it didn't get her to laugh a bit too. She wouldn't own up to it, but it's nice. Familiar and mocking with the ease that a lot of other stuff doesn't have right now.

Mike says, "Yeah, well, I just wanted to make you more uncomfortable than you already are. Millennials can't talk too long, right? Your little antsy bodies lose control. Your brains explode."

Ginny mocks an explosion and morphs the bomb sound into a sarcastic laugh of her own. But once he chuckles, she joins in. Nice, light laughter to cover the fact that this is one of maybe three conversations that they've ever had over the phone. One of the only times when they've had that little window between them that almost makes it seem like the other person's not even there, where maybe anything you say might not really be said, might just be a breath passed and a thought shared rather than an admission that could shake everything.

Not that Ginny has anything to admit. And not that she'd want to anyway. Just, a thought.

Mike clears his throat. "So, you and Blip still talking?"

She assumes he means on the phone, but the strain in his voice when he says Blip's name makes her wonder. "You two still avoiding each other?" she asks.

"We're not avoiding each other. I see him every day," Mike says, and she can almost imagine the way his head rolls a bit on his neck as he settles into the rest of his sentence, "And he tries his hardest not to talk to me. Unless it's an attack. He's really good at attacking people, Ginny. Didn't know it."

"Yeah, no, Blip's super petty when he gets the chance." He once ignored Ginny for three days when she said she couldn't tell the twins apart. Then next time she came over, he had the twins wearing name tags and told her she got one day to study up before she got banned from the house. Ev was nicer about it, let Ginny cheat by color-coding them for a few weeks.

Mike sighs. "He'll come around. He always does."

"He does." Ginny sits a little higher in her bed. "But he might come around a little faster if you tell him your side of everything." She talks over the fact that Mike starts groaning. "Ugh, I know, you'll have to share your feelings. But—"

"But what? He's made up his mind about me. I'm the one who left, which makes me the bad guy."

"But you didn't actually leave. You didn't even want to!" Except for that night, at the bar. "Right?"

That night, when every question out of Mike's mouth was leading, when his eyes only drifted from her to the reflection of her in his drink, when his hand scorched through the fabric of her dress and left her almost wishing that he could leave, that they could get the chance to figure out what they could have here.

"Right." He says it on a breath, like a slip of the tongue that rolled flush out of him and into the gap between them. His face is probably all scrunched — lightly furrowed brows, a bit of a wrinkle through the beard that comes from part of his face hanging a little lower than the other 'cause his lop-sided mouth when he's thinking too hard on something he doesn't want to think about. And his eyes, probably a blur of memories that she can't see, hidden with endless eyelashes and the quick way he blinks to try and push them all away.

But this call isn't about them. It's not supposed to be. It's about distractions, about Netflix recommendations and other fun teammate things that have nothing to do with this attraction between them.

She shifts. "So, Blip and I never talk on the phone for more than thirty minutes." The timer tells her they're at about five, so they've got a few more.

"I wouldn't want to talk to you that long anyways."

"You miss it," she sings. "You miss me singing when I stretch and my laugh overshadowing everything else in the bullpen." He'd always give her this glare from across the room, and her breath turns to bubbles at the thought of it. But there's a lull where he's supposed to tear her down. A beat where he's supposed to refute it, or say her laugh grates his ears, or complain about the fact that she doesn't want anyone to hear her when she sings so she purposely sings in a voice that no one but Mike seems to be able to figure out.

She's supposed to say something cute, and he's supposed to deny it, and that's their rhythm. This rest in the rhythm kind of makes it seem like he does miss her. Like he might actually genuinely cop to the fact that the bullpen doesn't have the same umph without her. Like, when she's there normally, the second she walks in, all the conversations either get softer or louder depending on who wants her listening in. And some of the guys still tighten the grip on their towels, and there's this charge that rips through as everyone clicks back into the whole team's rhythm, the vibe of the San Diego Padres as a full unit, helmed by the self-obsessed Mike Lawson, bolstered by the all-for-one Blip Sanders, and wrapped up with a screwball by the one and only Ginny Baker. A team unlike any other. Their team.

Mike kicks in eventually, even if it is late. "I'm actually starting to get my full hearing back without you there. Did you know that even silence has a sound?"

"It's pretty much all I hear now." She glances back to the frozen TV screen, the endless categories of movies and shows. "Evelyn's rec list is, like, three pages long. Just give me a place to start."

Mike hums into the phone. "Okay, let me see what I'm watching." The same Netflix self-promotional ad kicks up on his side of the line. They're not about to watch something together, are they? "You want a movie or a show?"

"A show." No question. She needs something that she can track her progress in. At least then she can say she watched a whole series in the time she was injured rather than saying she saw every single Disney movie that they have access to.

"Comedy or drama?"

Laughing at someone else's pain doesn't exactly seem right, so "Drama." But they're not watching something together, right? This is a recommendation. This is just casual, not like a Netflix and chill sort of long distance relationship, let's press play at the same time kind of thing. Because he probably breathes too hard when he's watching, like that bull breath he does when the other team starts for the field. It's probably super distracting.

"Okay. Did you ever see Breaking Bad?"

"Of course you loved Breaking Bad," she says.

"Who didn't love that show? Tell me one person who didn't—"

"I didn't."

He full on gasps. Like he's been slapped in a reality show. "Whoa, Baker, that show had one of the best pilot episodes of all time. How could you not like that show? It's Walter White!"

It's all about the failings of our system and this white guy who slips in and takes over the market and everyone who just sort of dies around him. The ending sounded great and all. She's heard all the stories, but seriously, she doesn't want to watch a science teacher turned drug dealer if she can help it. "Next!"

"I wanted to say watch Better Call Saul, but we'll keep looking. We'll figure it out. There's, uh, House of Cards," Mike says.

Ginny picks up her remote to start scrolling along. The categories on her Netflix are really generic, but she knows that they can get pretty specific. He probably has one for Dramas Featuring a White Male Anti-Hero. Probably looks at them and dreams of his own story up there. She snorts at the thought. He makes a questioning sort of sound, and she rushes to answer the question he hasn't asked yet.

"Saw part of it, but the main dude kind of creeps me out. His wife's cool though." She should be president, not the dude who kills a dog in the first episode and then just keeps killing and manipulating his way to the top. "Hey, does he become president?"

"No spoilers, rookie. First rule of Netflix."

"Pretty sure the first rule's to find someone with an account to let you on theirs." Amelia bought her an account ages ago so she'd have something to spend her free time, but Ginny mostly plays the same two movies in the background when she needs to fall asleep.

"You're a thief."

"What a cliche." One of the new Netflix shows has taken center on the screen. "Why does everyone love Stranger Things so much?"

She can legit hear Mike's shrug in the ruffle of his shirt. "Not sure. Haven't seen it."

She clicks down for the trailer. "It's just about kids, right?" And he must click it too because there's an echo. Echo of the music, of the voices, of the little intake of his breath (not the bull breath then) as it goes on. They're not going to watch this together. That puts them well over thirty minutes and it definitely isn't what normal teammates do. Still, "I think I might watch this."

"Yeah, me too." Then he scrambles out, "Not with you of course. The last thing I want to hear is you cackling through the episodes."

She doubts it's that funny anyway, and she reaches. "That's borderline racist."

But he doesn't miss a beat. "Good. Can't date a racist."

Her heart might miss a beat. Her breath might catch a little. "Could." Not him. "Have." It wasn't a good time. "It's awful. Wouldn't do it again."

His voice comes through too serious, too much like he'd be fixing her with his serious eyes where they're just a bit hooded and his lips have that slight pink right at the center because he does that little half-lick before he recognizes that he's licking his lips just to talk to her. "Good, Baker, you deserve better."

She might deserve him. Might deserve someone who will play along with thinly-veiled games to maintain a connection that they both know only strings them along. Someone who will let her give the speeches and who waits with her for her uber to make sure she gets in okay. Someone who nailed her cleats down to make sure she still got hazed like everybody else.

"Yeah. I do." A look at her phone tells her that it's been twenty minutes. "Well, I'm gonna start this show. Thanks for the help."

"Yeah. Do that. I've heard great things."

"Stranger things," she corrects. He only groans a little. "Bye, Mike."

"Bye, Ginny."

They click off the line, and if she waits a moment or two before hitting play, it's just because she wants to be centered when she starts. And if she zones out a bit, it's just because D&D isn't that exciting and not because she's imagining how Mike's settling in to watch this at his place. And if they just so happen to text each other at the same moment when Officer Hopper arrives, it's just because they know each other's sense of humor and not because they're watching it together. Teammates don't do that.

Friends might though.

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 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 10:51pm  
** / You didn't tell me you were in this!  
/ "Mornings are for coffee and contemplation."

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 10:51pm  
** / Hear that, Baker? Mornings are for coffee and contemplation

But Mike double texts.

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 10:52pm  
** / Hey, my beard is so much better than that scruff he's calling a look, ok

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 10:52pm  
** / He even has the beard!

She huffs.

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 10:53pm  
** / Stop texting at the same time as me

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 10:56pm  
** / Does that mean I'm keeping up with you?  
/ Alert the presses  
/ Millennial beat by childhood hero, recovers from blow in hospital

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 10:57pm  
** / You couldn't keep up with me if you wanted to, Lawson

Fuck. She shouldn't have said that. It's too much. It's borderline flirty, and it's low-hanging fruit for a guy who turns everything into a double entendre.

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 10:59pm  
** / Get those chicken legs moving then, Baker

Hm. She bites down the urge to frown a little at that. She's not disappointed. She has no reason to be disappointed. They're not supposed to be flirting, so him offering up a response like that makes perfect sense. It's exactly the kind of thing that a normal teammate would say. It's a race, not a chance for him to come out on top. It's a challenge, but not one that he should use to boast about his stamina or a chance for him to grumble from low in his chest that he really does want to.

And none of these not-thoughts are crossing Ginny's mind. Nothing takes her away from the show, and she doesn't have to rewind to figure out what she missed, and she's really, truly, honestly not disappointed. Because she and Mike are teammates. Padres. Nothing more.

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 11:02pm  
** / Chicken legs!?  
/ Have you not SEEN my legs?

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 11:03pm  
** / Everyone in the world's seen your legs. Stop fishing for compliments.

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 11:04pm  
** / You live for compliments. Mr "You're gonna miss the beard."

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 11:05pm  
** / And you do miss it!

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 11:06pm  
** / Keep telling yourself that

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 11:08pm  
** / I do. Every night. I look in the mirror and tell myself, "Good game today, Lawson. Beard's looking great. Baker misses it and it's the only thing guiding her through recovery."

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 11:09pm  
** / When I get back, first thing I'm doing is buying clippers

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 11:10pm  
** / You can just use mine. Though you might need a weed wacker to get through all the hair you'll grow when you're out of the spotlight

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 11:11pm  
** / I'm shaving your beard.  
/ Clear off your face  
/ Then I'm going to do what I almost did before that bad throw

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 11:12pm  
** / Dream on  
/ You pitch a no hitter, and I'll lather on the shaving cream myself

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 11:13pm  
** / Deal.

She sets her phone down and rewinds for a second time. Her phone buzzes, but she forces her eyes to stay on the screen. Will Byers is missing, and Mike Lawson will not distract her from this. Even if he keeps messaging.

She peeks when it buzzes a fourth time.

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 11:14pm  
** / I'm kidding, Baker, obviously

/ Seriously, I wouldn't let you near me with a sharp object

/ This isn't a deal!  
/ Don't screenshot this and share it with your friends or your followers. This isn't happening!

She flips her phone back over and nestles into her pillows. He can sweat it out for now. He's got plenty of time to say goodbye to the beard before she's back on the field. But once she's out there, it'll be like rookie Lawson all over again. She unwraps a stick of gum and plops it in her mouth. Nurse Karen be damned.

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	3. (dinner with friends)

**notes:** casual Grey's Anatomy reference in this chapter - which is where my username comes from so this is bound to happen. Mark Sloan and Lexie Grey, one of those Grey's ships that most people loved, but they had a sixteen year age difference, which led to some complications around the hospital sometimes. there's legit a scene where Mark's talking about his younger girlfriend and saying that she's not that young and it cuts to Lexie, drinking a juice box. Cruel, cruel humor but oh so great.

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 **part three**

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Mike stares down the door to Blip's place from inside his car. The engine's still running, radio up with a stupid podcast Ginny recommended about Stranger Things (and seriously, what kid sits around listening to podcasts? Shouldn't Ginny be listening to something more high paced? Something more interesting than a bunch of nerds sitting around in their living rooms around a mic they bought with their Amazon Student Prime account?) Anyway, it's honestly not the worst thing to listen to. They mostly recap episodes and talk about their theories, talk about moments that Mike might've missed since he spent the first three episodes texting Ginny at the same time.

She responds faster than anyone else he talks to. Even when she's watching. It's like she types with her eyes on the TV and her thumbs flying along the bottom of her phone screen. And even when she tells him to shut up, or that he wouldn't have to ask questions if he just paid attention, she answers every text he sends her. She even stops watching when she knows he's busy. She claimed that she didn't watch last night's game night because she turned in early, but Evelyn looked way too happy after the game to have just been watching.

Not that Mike normally pays that much attention to how Evelyn's responding to stuff, but she'd bounced right up to Blip and started talking about Ginny sounding more like herself again. Mike had adjusted the strap on his bag and tried to play off listening in, but Ev noticed everything. Told him to stop eavesdropping and hear it for himself, over dinner, the next day. And if Mike knows anything about strong-willed women, he knows not to turn down an invitation. So here he is.

Sitting in the car, engine running, six-pack of IPA and a fresh bottle of silver tequila slowly warming on the seat beside him.

It's been a little over a week since all the trade stuff went down and Blip still won't talk to him. Blip's passive aggressive, dismissive, and he keeps undermining Mike in front of the rest of the team. And it's not like Mike's exactly helping it, but this is ridiculous. He shouldn't be punished for something that didn't even happen. He's still in San Diego for Christ's sake. He's coming to dinner with a gift for each member of the happy couple and it's bullshit that Blip will probably spend the whole meal pushing his food around his plate and sucking on the inside of his cheek. But hey, that's what Mike gets for making friends.

Buzz. He peers down, half expecting it to be Evelyn telling him to come inside.

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 7:14pm  
** / Ev says stop being weird and come inside

His heart pounds against his chest. Come inside like - Ginny just left the hospital yesterday. Then she complained for two hours last night about how it's like the time she fucked up her knee and couldn't do anything but sit there with her mom. She'd been, what, sixteen, and nearly tore her ACL snowboarding on a family vacation. Her mom felt so guilty for taking the whole family up there that she hovered over Ginny for two weeks straight. And if that's what her mom did over a small injury, then this potentially career ending injury had to be a full lockdown. Maximum security.

His phone buzzes again.

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 7:15pm  
** / You look like you're gonna crap your pants.  
/ You're not old enough for diapers, Lawson

He fights the urge to jump up. Takes his time so he looks casual when he scans the house for where Ginny could be. She's obviously not at the door he was watching. Not at the windows next to it. Not at - ah! The window upstairs, if his memory of the layout's right, she's in the boys' room. Waving her phone with her good arm while Evelyn stands over her shoulder.

Mike gives them a wave and hits the button to reply.

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 7:16pm  
** / Stalking's against the law you know

But he doesn't wait for a response. If they're up there, they could've been watching him for a while. He kills the engine and grabs all his stuff from the passenger seat. At least this means dinner might not be all him and Evelyn making small talk. It can be him and Evelyn and Ginny, who he hasn't actually seen in person since right after she got hurt. God it'll be good to update the image in his mind. He's been seeing her all tiny in a hospital gown whenever he thinks of her. Paper clothes around her lean frame, the gross gray of them reflecting the awful hospital lights and draining every bit of color out of her skin. She lives in San Diego, okay; she normally glows. But that room sucked it all out of her. Stripped her of one of the greatest strengths she has.

He sounds stupid. Completely stupid and like some fangirl who notices a stray hair and reads too far into it. It's whatever. Ginny was just tired. And now she's out, so she'll be better. Everything can just go back to normal.

Or whatever this new normal is.

His car locks behind him as he jogs up the walk to the front door. He knocks twice, circles his jaw to steady himself. One of the boys opens the door. Evelyn's voice drifts down from upstairs, but neither of them seem to really listen to what she's saying.

Gabe stares up at him and his drinks. "Bring anything for me?"

Mike chuckles. "Not this time. Got to bribe your old man into talking to me today." He steps around Gabe and sets down the drinks so he can untie his shoes. Another bundle of feet wander over, so Marcus must want to say hi too. Mike doesn't get why the kids even bother talking to him. It's not like he's one of those people who hikes his voice up a notch and goes running around looking at their toys. He mostly just talks to them like they're tiny people, not kids.

Marcus eyes the tequila bottle. "Mom's already got one of those under the sink." Gabe shushes him, but Marcus waves him off. "What, she opens it and I see it. I'm not doing anything."

"She's gonna be mad," Gabe mumbles.

Evelyn's voice cuts in from the top of the stairs. "Mad about what?" All eyes turn to her, but Mike's snag on the woman behind her.

Ginny's still in yoga pants like she's headed into the locker room. Plus she's got this muscle top on - an old USC shirt she probably took from Blip. The sleeves have been cut off pretty low to give good range of motion. It's not a bad look in general, but it's an even better way to dress when you've got a sling holding your arm in proper position.

"Hey." Mike breathes out the word without even checking to see if she can hear him. Or if Evelyn's done staring down the boys, who seem to be mid-mumble when Mike opens his mouth. Still, everything gets a little quieter after he says it. He clears his throat. Makes sure to put enough behind the next sentence so it actually seems like he means to say it. "Welcome to the real world, Baker."

She rolls her eyes. "Been out in it all day. Someone-" and she side-eyes Evelyn who's already watching her with rapt attention "-decided that I should be her lapdog today."

Evelyn turns back to Mike. "The correct term's 'best friend,' you know the person you hang out with when you want to be around people. The one who saves you from awkward silences with your mom."

Ginny nudges Evelyn in thanks but doesn't actually say the words. Evelyn takes it with a nod, and down the steps they go. Meanwhile, Gabe and Marcus grab at the drinks and rush off towards the kitchen.

"We'll put them on the table!"

Then it's just the grown ups. Just Mike with one shoe off and these two women looking at him like maybe he should stop staring and take off the other one. He ducks down and pulls that one off too. Slides them both onto the shoe rack. Claps his hands together once he's done.

"So, where's the man of the house?"

Evelyn snorts. Ginny points to the living room where Blip, obviously, painstakingly, sips at a beer while watching TV. But the TV's on some bright colored kid shit, so it's probably fake enthusiasm. Another way for Blip to pretend like he's not still upset that Mike almost left. Evelyn heads towards Blip.

"Babe, say hi."

Blip glances over. "Hey."

Mike gives him a nod. "Hey." Then Blip turns back to the screen. Mike could laugh if the sound wouldn't come out sounding like he cared. Laughs and sobs sound way too similar, and the last thing Mike needs to do is draw more attention to this rift. He makes a sound, then Ginny starts giving him those pitying eyes and Evelyn snaps at Blip and then Ginny goads Mike to talk about his feelings, and honestly who has the time for a heart to heart? Mike and Blip still have jobs to do, unlike either of the girls right now.

Evelyn rolls her eyes and lowers down by Blip's ear. She starts whispering something, but Ginny steps in front of Mike's view of them. Her hair's tied back today with a little flourish in it. Like a twist along the sides. It's not really a braid, and Mike has no idea what to call it. It's nice though.

Ginny pitches up on her toes. "Ev made lasagna, but it's still cooking. We've got at least thirty minutes before it's ready."

"Then why'd I have to come inside?" The way she stiffens tells him it's probably the wrong way to put it. He shakes his head. "I just mean, you rushed me away from that awful podcast you made me listen to. I was just starting to like it."

Her eyes light up. "You're listening to it? Seriously?" She glances back to the door. "Which part are you at?"

Is it just him, or does that sound like an invitation to get out of here? "I'd have to play it to know."

"Then play it." She grabs flip flops off the shoe rack. Slips her feet into them. "Come on." She grabs Blip's sandals and drops them in front of Mike's sock clad feet. "Just borrow these. We've only got thirty minutes."

"Evelyn-" Mike turns to point at her, but Evelyn's next to Blip on the couch already, goading him and speaking so quiet that Mike can't hear what she's saying.

"Won't care," Ginny says to finish out his sentence. "Now quick before Gabe and Marcus get back."

Mike hasn't slipped off to his car with anyone in a while. But he's done it enough where he has to fight the itch in his fingers to land on her back, has to slow himself down so he doesn't walk in time with her but also not too slow that he has a perfect view of her walking ahead of him. He unlocks the car and slips in before any part of him can seriously consider opening her door for her. She'd have to have two broken arms for that to be okay. Even then, she'd probably insist on opening it with her elbow or something.

Once both doors shut, it's like all the noise in the world's gone. Just him and Ginny, alone and in person. She holds onto her sling, which is about the closest she can get to crossing her arms across her chest. He turns the car on, more to have something to do, but even the hum of the car doesn't actually add anything. He should say something, anything.

"So you got away from your mom," he says.

She nods. "She likes Ev, so she caved. I've got to be back by the end of the night though. Strict curfew."

God. "You're like twelve."

"Twenty-four," she corrects, but that doesn't actually make it that much better. It might not be a crime anymore, but it's still... it's a lot, especially if it went on more than a night. A young groupie's a young groupie, nobody cares, and she loves the experience until she realizes that she wants more but then it doesn't work out because the more that she wants means a joint HBO account and someone to snuggle up with in the winter, the more that he'd want is someone with him while he ices his knees, it's a dog running around and getting into his stuff, or a cat if he's being more realistic about his lifestyle and lack of available dog walking time. He's done the married thing before, okay, and anything less than that's not really gonna cut it.

He looks her straight in the eye. "Twelve." Then grabs his phone to open up the podcast. The whole thing's on SoundCloud, which he now owns the app for since that's apparently the only way to be able to listen to something without his phone giving up on him. Honestly, people should streamline things by this point. Put all the podcasts and whatever else onto iTunes and save him a couple steps.

He hits play, but the second he does, Ginny turns down the volume on the radio. "You say I'm a kid, but you're the one letting this stupid feud keep going."

"Feud?" Since when does he have a feud with anyone? Even he and Livan have more of a begrudging mentorship relationship going on.

Ginny widens her eyes and throws them at the house. Mike rolls his in response, but she keeps going. "I get it, Blip's super unreasonable sometimes when he's upset about something. But he's just upset. Tell him your side, hear his, and we can have a normal dinner instead of an awful one."

"I don't need to hear his side."

"Yes, you do."

"No, Baker, I don't." Mike scratches at his beard. "I know what it's like to depend on someone and have them take off when you need them."

Ginny ventures a little, asks him, "Rachel?"

He could've meant Rachel. She certainly likes to ditch him when it's convenient for her. But he mostly just means his mom. His childhood wasn't bad necessarily. He ate when he was hungry (most of the time), and he had the right amount of pillows to still sleep pretty comfy on nights when they napped in the car instead of finding a place for the night. But the whole thing with his dad fucked him up. The knowledge that there was something else out there and a whole different life he could've lived that was fully fucking palpable.

"I grew up with a single mom, everybody knows that. But we spent months one year, right in the same town as my dad. Saw him almost every day. I didn't want much form him. Didn't really know who he was for most of it. Just thought he was a cool guy, thought he made everything with my mom a little better." Mike thumbs the volume button on his phone. Up, down, up down. "Then one day we left. Just like that."

Only just like that doesn't account for all the time Mike spent thinking about him. All the questions he had that his mom flat out ignored every time he asked. If she knew where his dad was, then why didn't he get to see him sooner? If his dad could look after him there, then why couldn't his dad see them once they moved? Why did his dad have a whole other family? And why couldn't Mike be a part of any of that?

Ginny rolls her shoulder back. "Whoa."

Mike rolls his. "Yeah." He used to have these dreams of his dad coming for him, after they left Poway. Dumb ones, silly stupid dumb dreams about his dad being there for him and having the chance to be a kid with two parents even if the parents never spoke to each other. He even left a ticket under the Dave Grissom at his very first All-Star game. But it never got picked up. There was a note though, left with Al after one of their games at Petco. It read:

Glad you stuck with catching, Mike. It suits you.

You've always been strong, made the right choice for you. You're a better man than me for that. No matter what, just remember you got here on your own. You deserve to be in the league. Keep on going and make the team proud to have you. Even prouder than they already have to be.

Best wishes,  
Dave Grissom

Being the kid that he was, Mike crumbled it up and threw it to the back of his locker. He didn't pull it back out for months. Now it just sits in a drawer in his dresser, towards the back under a mountain of mismatched, worn down socks.

Mike shakes his head. "Just, I get where Blip's coming from. There's not really much I can do to fix it except show up every day. I can be there. Until he looks up one day and it doesn't hurt so bad to see me."

"Mike -" Ginny turns in her seat to face him. "I'm..."

"You're...?" What? Sorry that he went through that? He's an All-Star and has a car retainer; he's fine.

She shrugs. "Nothing. Thanks for sharing. And for having a plan."

It's not so much a plan as him stringing a few thoughts together. That's normally how forgiving someone tends to turn out. At least where Mike's concerned.

He tries waving her off anyway. "It's nothing. Just remember, you don't have a monopoly on weird relationships with dads."

She does a smile that's more of a grimace, but it's something. "Ah, but I do have all the blue properties."

Board games. See, she's twelve. "You don't have to complete your sets, just ruin everybody else's." Over her cackles, he says, "You get one of each of the others and charge triple when you sell them back."

"That's ruthless," she says.

"It's good business."

"It's a game."

His head rolls back onto the headrest. "Everything's a game, rookie." And it's almost most definitely a moment so someone has to ruin it. She ended their phone call, so it should be his turn to impose their usual distance. They can't stay in this car and expect not to have talks like this. Not to slip into something real. "We should probably back in."

"Let's make dinner a game." Her eyes go wide when she says it, like she's not actually sure why she's saying it exactly. "Come on."

"Okay." He nods. "A drinking game, please."

She nods slow in a circle that travels down past her neck and to her chest. Tiny bodyrolls to cover the thinking time. "Every time Blip rolls his eyes, drink."

Oh she's trying to get him trashed. "Do we both drink or just one of us?"

"Both," she says it like it's obvious. "Win together, lose together."

Teammates. "Okay. Every time anyone mentions baseball, drink."

That's worth a grimace. "Every time Evelyn gives the Talk to Him look, just chug." She mimes it. Then flushes in her cheeks.

It's not cute. And the more he drinks, the more he might be able to distract himself from how Not Cute Ginny Baker actually is. "We're gonna need a lot of beers for this one."

"Just put the six pack on the table and buckle up." If this were a normal day, she'd probably clap her hands to end the sentence, but she's got the sling so she taps twice on the car seat. Which - sling.

"How strong are your meds?" If she's on heavy stuff, then she can't knock 'em back with him. She could fuck up her whole system like that.

"I'm fine," she says. He narrows his eyes. She sits up even straighter. "I'm fine. I can have, like, three drinks on this stuff and beer barely counts. I want to play." She leans forward on her own headrest. "Put me in coach."

And he should not feel anything at that, but the stirring there - the way his nerves jump and his knee twinges - he could probably kiss her again right now, sitting in his car when they should be inside eating dinner. They could skip the whole meal for this, or ride off somewhere and see what they can get into without hurting her.

But that's not what they do, is it? 'Cause they're teammates. There are rules. Age differences that make him feel off whenever he thinks about it for too long. She has a curfew today. And she just got the right to drink three years ago. He's not trying to be the Mark Sloan to her Lexie Grey. No juice box girlfriends or broken penises for Mike Lawson.

He concedes anyway. "Three drinks, Baker."

"Three drinks. Now let's see how fast I can take 'em." Her eyebrows dance before she rolls over and gets out of the car. She doesn't wait for him, just swoops around and heads up the walk. It gives him time though. Time to turn the car back off and regroup for what might be one of the most awkward dinners he's been through in a while.

Something tells him though that it might not be so bad. Not when Ginny's eyes dance as she pops the cap on his beer, or when Evelyn starts slicing into a pan of lasagna that's so cheesy that a string follows up off the pie cutter. Even Blip's got a smile for a second - it's aimed at Gabe, but it's something.

Mike takes the beer from Ginny and a roll off the table. "Evelyn, this all looks so good."

Ginny nods. "Yeah, like... a home run on a clear day." She sips with a smirk towards Mike. So that's how she wants to play it?

"Like a game that gets rained out when you're losing so you can blame it on the cleats or something else." He sips twice.

She sips and says, "Or just having a great team behind you, whenever you need one." She sips again, and Blip rolls his eyes, so she gives a little mini-cackle. Mouths, "Drink," to him and slips into her seat.

Scratch what he said earlier. This'll just be fun.

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	4. (dinner with friends ii)

**written for** / **with the aid of** day six of the 30 x 31 challenge, **prompt** : decades

this section was written entirely with _Black Mirror_ and the "San Junipero" episode as inspiration, until I remembered that it's not even September in Pitch's timeline and season three didn't drop until fall. Had to rewrite the beginning for consistency and accuracy.

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 **part four**

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Ginny tends to check out a bit during dinner. It's not a comment on the meal or anything; she just gets lost sometimes in how stuff makes her feel. Like, being able to sit down with her best friends and eat something home cooked after days of being trapped in the hospital? That's... that's like the rush inside once everyone stopped saying what she was pitching, once everyone scooted forward in their seats and the guys wouldn't sit next to her, and it started to feel real. Like, something amazing's right here, almost out of reach, but everyone can see it coming. Everyone can feel it.

So, maybe she checks out a bit and tries to put it into other words. She sips at her third and final beer and lets her eyes follow Gabe and Marcus as they dart off upstairs. Lets herself tune out of the conversation around her and starts to prep how she'll explain this to her therapist. What it's like to be a part of something bigger than herself that doesn't feel ridiculously overwhelming.

"I'm just saying, Evie, back me up. Black people don't do that." Blip laughs when he says it, and Ginny breaks out of her head long enough to turn back towards him for this one. Her eyebrows pitch up a little higher. He grins her way. "See, Ginny gets it. If anything, I'm going to the future."

Ginny sips at her beer again. "Going to the future for what?"

Evelyn rolls her eyes, which isn't a drinking rule but it might happen enough to become one. "Pay attention, Ginny. Time travel. You can go to any decade. I was thinking the sixties, nothing too bad, and I get to see some really amazing people in their primes."

Blip nods. "Right, right, civil rights and the moon landing."

Evelyn stays focused on Ginny. "I want to see some of the work that went into changing this country, first hand. And maybe hear some stories from family members who won't tell them to me now."

Ginny gets that. "Experiencing history rather than just hoping someone will share it with you."

"Exactly! But Blip's over here saying that black people don't time travel." Evelyn sips her drink. "As if we don't want to experience good parts of our history."

Blip shakes his head. "I'm just not trying to get beat up, killed, imprisoned, or anything else. I just want to play ball and come home to you and the boys."

"Suck up." But she has that pink to her cheeks that only a lot of alcohol, or a good line, can do to a girl. "Ginny, what do you do?"

"Me?" Ginny glances around for help, but Blip and Mike don't seem to have any answers for her. Actually, Mike's been pretty quiet while he drinks for now. What's up with him? "What about him?" She points to Mike, who quirks a brow at her. "What'd you choose, Lawson?"

He tips his beer away from him. "Haven't picked yet. We're doing everything else before beauty." Then, to Evelyn, he adds, "No offense."

"None taken." She knows she's cute. Everyone's cute here. It's an epidemic, honestly.

Cute and petty and wholly unhelpful when Ginny needs to make a hypothetical decision on time travel. Because, yeah, bad things could happen in another time period, but also great things did happen and she could witness them. But there's also the fact that this decade has been really good to her. She's playing for the Padres, has great friends, and she's kind of living the dream that she and her dad set out for.

"Fine, I choose now."

Blip snorts. "See, no time travel."

Mike shakes his head though. "That doesn't prove anything. It's an easy choice for her. She's only lived through two decades."

Again with this? She corrects him, "Three. I'm-"

"Twenty-four, I know." He drinks.

She rolls her eyes. "You sound so bitter."

"I'm always bitter," he says. But not always, not with her. Maybe Ginny's eyes say that because his eyes crinkle in the edges the longer they hold this new stare, and her chest gets all warm even if it's covered by her shirt and her sling, and when she does look away from Mike, it's straight into Evelyn's beaming face.

Ginny gulps down her emotion with the last of her drink. "Whatever." Maybe she should've followed the boys upstairs instead of sticking around for grown folk talks. She could kick their asses in Mario Kart instead of debating the strengths of different decades. "It's not like it matters anyway. But, now is a good time. Now, we have a lot of opportunities and more happening every day as people fight for their rights and a chance to live their dreams. A woman is playing in the Majors."

Evelyn hums. "A black woman."

Ginny nods. "Exactly. So our biggest limitations are the ones we put on ourselves."

Mike sighs. It's not even a big one, but the empty bottle magnifies it. Draws them all over to his face as it freezes. He clears his throat a bit at their stares. "Just, yeah, you know. Our own expectations tend to hold us back. Sometimes they help, and other times..."

He meets her eyes again, and there are a few limitations that she's set for them, aren't there? The insistence that they're teammates, but that they have to be the same type of teammates that she and Blip are rather than the sort of partners that she and Mike were beginning to be. That's something holding them back. But it has a purpose. It keeps her safe, keeps her career grounded and her heart firmly in her chest instead of flying at him like a curveball. He might be a great catcher, but even the greats mess up sometimes.

Then Mike blinks, and his gaze goes to Evelyn and Blip rather than just Ginny. He says, "Now's pretty good, but maybe the future wouldn't be a bad place to be either. Got a lot of hopes for it. Big dreams."

"I want another house." Evelyn smiles down into her glass. "Not just because of the space, but one that has something for everyone. An extra guest room would be nice too. Since Ginny never seems to want her own place, and it wouldn't be the worst to have another girl around."

That comment does something to Blip. Sends him somewhere in his mind that brings out a gruffness. He pushes up from his seat with his empty bottle. "I'm getting a refill." His shoulders stay tense on his march to the fridge, and Evelyn's eyes go skyward before she blinks her own emotion away.

Ginny gives her a look - a raised brow and a head tilt to ask what's wrong. Ev shakes her head. Not the time then. Ginny glances to her phone, flipped over on the table as per house rules. Ev shakes her head again. No texting about it either. Fine. She could wait.

Mike must pick up on something since he offers his own dreams out to the table. "I really want that ring. With the right team. Our team."

Blip shuts the fridge. "Not the Cubs?"

Mike stares over. He probably has some smart response stored, but he just sighs and says, "I didn't put in sixteen years here for nothing. After I get that ring, they'll be begging me to be mayor. Couldn't deny the fans that."

Blip mulls it over, then reaches back into the fridge to grab another beer. He holds it out to Mike once he has it, and Mike nods. It's not much, but it's something. Blip pops the lids and brings both drinks back to the table.

"Yeah, what would they do without you, man?"

A week ago, that was the question, wasn't it? What would they do without Mike? Now that's the one they've got to wonder about with Ginny. What'll they do if she can't play the way she used to? What will she do? All she's ever known is this game. All of her friends come from this game. So if she can't play, what does she have to look forward to in the future?

She can watch her friends get championship rings. She can run around with Gabe and Marcus hanging off of her arms. She can drink with Evelyn over whatever little problem of the week has popped up in an otherwise perfect marriage. But what will she do?

Mike sips from his new drink. "Eh, they'd figure it out."

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.

 **From Ginny Baker to Evelyn Sanders, 11:23pm  
** / Back. Mom's hovering but we're in, safe and sound

 **From Evelyn Sanders to Ginny Baker, 11:24pm  
** / Glad to hear it. Sleep tight xx

 **From Ginny Baker to Evelyn Sanders, 11:25pm  
** / hey, what was that tonight? with Blip?

 **From Evelyn Sanders to Ginny Baker, 11:26pm  
** / ?  
/ + surprised you noticed anything with your little drinking game

 **From Ginny Baker to Evelyn Sanders, 11:28pm  
** / You saw that?  
/ of course you saw it  
/ I thought it'd help keep him calm

 **From Evelyn Sanders to Ginny Baker, 11:30pm  
** / It calmed him down alright  
/ They actually talked, Ginny. Finally.  
/ I mean it's no kiss and make up moment but it's something, right? no more constant awkwardness?

 **From Ginny Baker to Evelyn Sanders, 11:32pm  
** / Nope, we fixed it  
/

 **From Evelyn Sanders to Ginny Baker, 11:33pm  
** / What thing with Blip?

 **From Ginny Baker to Evelyn Sanders, 11:34pm  
** / Oh. He got weird when you mentioned having another girl around  
/ Everything okay?

 **From Evelyn Sanders to Ginny Baker, 11:37pm  
** / You know Blip, he wants us to do what he wants us to do and anything outside of that is just... totally unheard of. He wants his perfect wife and his perfect sons and a perfect third kid, and I just want this. I want more than just this. I want my restaurant. I want a future of my own that's not just a house to decorate or a mini-me to go to the spa with. I can go to the spa with you

 **From Ginny Baker to Evelyn Sanders, 11:39pm  
** / whoa. And you told him that?

 **From Evelyn Sanders to Ginny Baker, 11:42pm  
** / Along with telling him that I need the same level of support I've been giving him since we met. We're not at Lawson level freeze outs, but he's not happy with it. dk when he will be. dk if he can be.  
/ but at least we fixed him and Mike. they can bitch about me together

 **From Ginny Baker to Evelyn Sanders, 11:43pm  
** / I should've stayed

 **From Evelyn Sanders to Ginny Baker, 11:45pm  
** / No, he'd know something was up then  
/ I'm fine. Me and Blip are fine. He needs time, and then we'll be right back to strong as ever  
/ but thank you for the offer  
/ get some sleep okay

 **From Ginny Baker to Evelyn Sanders, 11:48pm  
** / okay  
/ love you, Ev

 **From Evelyn Sanders to Ginny Baker, 11:49pm  
** / love you too  
/ tell your mom night for me

 **From Ginny Baker to Evelyn Sanders, 11:51pm  
** / She says night

/ Ev?

 **From Evelyn Sanders to Ginny Baker, 11:52pm  
** / ?

 **From Ginny Baker to Evelyn Sanders, 11:53pm  
** / I can't wait to see your restaurant  
/ #TeamFuture

 **From Evelyn Sanders to Ginny Baker, 11:53pm  
** / lol #TeamFuture

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 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, [DRAFT]**  
/ I wanted now as my decade because this is the happiest I've ever been and I don't really care about seeing something new, or experiencing something I haven't felt before

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 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, [DRAFT]**  
/ Who's to say the future's gonna be great anyway? What if it's awful? What do we do then?

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 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 12:00am**  
/ You better not have driven yourself home. You didn't have your glasses and you had too much to be sober

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 12:01am**  
/ Got an Uber  
/ Go to sleep, rookie

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 12:02am**  
/ I'm going. I'm going  
/ Night old man

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 12:03am**  
/ I'm really not that old

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 12:04am**  
/ Fine. Night cap

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 12:05am**  
/ You sure good night texts are okay?

 **From Ginny Baker to Mike Lawson, 12:06am**  
/ Me and Blip swap bedtime stories all the time  
/ cross my heart

 **From Mike Lawson to Ginny Baker, 12:07am**  
/ Night, Baker

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End file.
